Experimentation
by 1776IsMyLife
Summary: Malcolm and Stevie screw up a chemistry lab, which ends up screwing with Malcolm and Reese's heads. Especially in terms of how they feel towards each other. OR The tropey fic in which love potion #9 is a thing.
1. Chapter 1

Malcolm and Stevie just finished up an AP Chemistry lab in Stevie's room, when Reese bursts in, eyes full of excitement over something that's _probably_ classifiable as one of three things: disgusting, violent, or both.

"Hey, guys! You'll never guess what I just… _wrapped up_ ," he giggles, almost doubling over in giddiness.

'Well, this sounds ominous,' Malcolm thinks. "Reese, what have you done?"

"Just look outside," Reese forces out, now trying to control his laughter.

Stevie wheels over to his window, allowing a space for Malcolm to also observe the havoc that Reese has inflicted on the jackass down the street: Jack Milton; Jack squirms in vain to free himself from the surprisingly complex, yet tidy saran wrap job that Reese completed.

"Jesus Christ, Reese! He's _never_ gonna get out of that tree! But, if he does, I guess he'll be too scared to tell," Malcolm says, enthusiastically high-fiving Reese.

"Yeah…he's too much…of…a _pussy_ …now," Stevie grins, shaking his head.

Just as they're about to continue roasting Jack, Stevie's dad swings the door open. "Time for dinner, Stevie! You two may join us for dinner, if your parents are all right with it."

"Yeah, don't worry. I called my parents before I ran over here. It's cool. And…thanks!" Malcolm replies, moving past Reese, Malcolm, and Abe, who all follow him to the hot meals that lie on the table.

After they all finish eating, Malcolm, Reese, and Stevie return to Stevie's room, only to see the mixture that Malcolm and Stevie worked on boiling when it _shouldn't_ be.

"Shit!" Malcolm whispers, rushing over to the volumetric flask that contains their horribly miscalculated molarity solution; reddish-pink fog flows over the entire flask, and has a sketchy glow within and surrounding it.

"Awesome! What the hell is—" Reese begins to ask, but can't finish because he accidentally inhales the fumes from the solution, coughing and stumbling away, a hand covering his mouth to block the fumes. "Ugh…why the fuck is it so _sweet_?"

"Goddammit, Reese!" Malcolm growls, shoving Reese out of the room, making sure to hold his breath as he does so.

"Thank… _God_ …I...didn't go…in there," Stevie says, subtly peering into his room to see if anything's burning. Thankfully, nothing is.

"Well, at least I got a goddamn window open! The room should return to its well-ventilated state in around…48 hours?" Malcolm says guiltily, knowing Stevie had to sacrifice a crucial portion of his solitary space for a while. Too long, _especially_ for a teenage boy. Not to mention Abe's reaction.

"It's okay…I guess. I mean…you guys…didn't…pass out…so…that's gotta be…a good sign," Stevie optimistically replies, shrugging. Malcolm is surprised Stevie doesn't kick his ass, but takes the easygoing response.

"We better get home, I guess. Bye!" Reese says, pulling Malcolm along by his arm and out of Stevie's door. Malcolm gets goosebumps that almost induce a full body shiver, but he manages to suppress it before allowing Reese that satisfaction.

When they reach their front doorstep, Reese reluctantly peels his fingers off of Malcolm's arm, making sure to do so _extra_ slowly for a reason he can't comprehend. He unlocks the front door, ushering Malcolm in by firmly planting his hand on his shoulder and guiding him, almost in a protective manner. Malcolm fights the oncoming heat in his cheeks, as he doesn't want Reese to have anything _else_ on him.

When Reese and Malcolm reach their room, Reese opens the door for him, and follows Malcolm like he did about a minute ago. Dewey is fast asleep, but still as a rock. They both realize the need to change into nightclothes before Lois bites their heads off for not being in bed yet; as Malcolm pulls off his shirt to reveal his still-developing, but slightly more muscular than average torso to change into a t-shirt, Reese feels compelled to glance over long enough to see it. No, to _take it in and memorize it_. 'What in the hell am I doing?' he asks himself before changing into long, flannel pants quickly, trying to cover the likely suspicious staring he was doing.

"Night, Reese," Malcolm yawns, crawling under his covers after switching off his bedside lamp.

"Night, Malcolm," Reese whispers into the darkness, burrowing down into his sheets for what he believes is the retention of his own _sanity_. He doesn't have an inkling of what would make him look at his brother...

'This is _ridiculous_ ', Reese thinks, shaking his head at himself and his seemingly outlandish thoughts. 'Getting myself all worked up over some silly… _looking_. I mean, we're brothers; we look at each other all the time. Hell, we _have_ to; we live in the same damn house. No big deal.'

He quietly laughs at himself, and then settles until he slips into a heavy sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Malcolm awakes to the profiles of his youngest, but most successfully manipulative brother, Dewey, and the second oldest, but most physically destructive brother, Reese. Initially wincing to the increased amount of light in the room, his eyes focus enough to see Reese's sleeping figure.

Malcolm can't help but allow his gaze to linger on the peaceful, sprawled figure of Reese; he realizes that he's never just _looked_ at him outside of plotting some mindless prank as he sleeps, or, more commonly, glaring daggers at him in hopes of causing Reese's spontaneous, but long-deserved combustion by means of mere will. But now, right _now_ , Malcolm might even dare to think Reese looks _angelic_. Ethereal, even. Too many adjectives to describe a single, complex being.

But not _fucking beautiful_ at all.

'Wow, I didn't think I'd lose it _this_ quickly,' Malcolm thinks. 'It's obvious that I've gone _crazy_ , considering that it's _Reese_ we're thinking about here. I mean, what part of a generally destructive idiot could you find even the _slightest_ appeal in?'

Malcolm quickly grows tired of his own thoughts, and resolves to dissipate them with physical productivity. He winces at the harsh cracks and pops of his back and shoulders as he stretches, then drags himself into the bathroom to rid himself of the foul morning breath currently plaguing the inside of his mouth.

Just as he's about to close the door and brush his teeth, the door swings open, making him jump in surprise to see Reese wandering in. "Morning," Reese greets him, a sleepy expression still gracing his flawless features as he reaches for the toothpaste-

'Flawless?' Malcolm thinks. 'Are you possessed or something? 'Cause that's not something _you_ , _his brother_ , would think about the way Reese looks. In fact, go back to thinking about how he looks as dumb as he _is_. Now, shut up and brush your teeth, _dipwad_.'

After fumbling to twist off the cap for almost two long, embarrassing minutes, Reese reluctantly shoves the infamous tube into Malcolm's hand, snatching his hand away before he felt like holding Malcolm's instead.

'...The _fuck_ is going on with me?' Reese thinks, a frown of disappointment on his face when Malcolm easily twists the cap off, a mockery of a smile beginning to show.

"Don't you say a goddamn word. A toothpaste cap is nothing compared to the beatings I hand out _daily_. Don't look so excited," Reese grumbles, quickly taking the toothpaste tube to brush and get on with his day.

"See, this is one of the very _few_ instances in which your 'thug' status is fairly questionable. Do you need me to carry your backpack for you too, _wittle baby Weesie?_ Could change your diaper, too-"

Reese drops his toothbrush before snatching the front of Malcolm's t-shirt and yanking him close, breathing hard from the petty manifestation of rage boiling inside his veins. Malcolm can hardly concentrate with Reese being this close, thinking he's gone too far, and the brush of Reese's strong fingers against his stomach as they clutch his shirt in a death grip and his cool, minty breath against his face aren't helping.

"Listen," Reese growls, "just because you think I'm a 'thug' doesn't mean you can successfully provoke me at any time. After all, thugs don't really beat up people who don't deserve every punch and kick they get. But I can still intimidate the _hell_ out of you." Malcolm's hands fly up to Reese's wrists, clutching them mainly for support...and penance, for fear of what Reese might do _later_. "After all, who's the pint-sized nerd in the clutches of his stronger, _cooler_ older brother?" Reese finishes, leaning in to capture the fear in Malcolm's sky-blue eyes.

Malcolm's grip on Reese's wrists tightens out of nervousness, making Reese internalize the pain-related wince that he doesn't _dare_ display externally. Malcolm gulps, leaning his face away from Reese's, realizing he pretty much poked the bear that is a _ticking time bomb of fists_. Reese leans in closer, breath washing over Malcolm's face. "Who holds the power, _Malcolm_?" Reese can't help but notice how _fragile_ Malcolm looks in this very moment.

Reese says his name with a tone bordering on brutally volatile that Malcolm all but whispers, "Me," and tries to yank himself out of Reese's grip; Reese lets go of his shirt, only to catch Malcolm by _both_ his wrists and pin them to his own chest, forcing Malcolm to face him. Reese leans in until Malcolm's pink, slightly chapped lips are a hair's width away from his own, hovering for a moment, then darts to his ear. "Let's talk later," he says, releasing Malcolm from his hold and ambling out of their shared bathroom.

Malcolm lets out the breath he was holding in; he can barely reflect on what just transpired, when Lois calls them for breakfast, temporarily snapping him out of his thoughts as he rushes to dress and get downstairs, a worrying mix of fear and...something foreign swirling low in his gut.

But, he's not _really_ rushing, since, you know, _Reese_ is down there.


	3. Chapter 3

Throughout the school day, whenever Reese and Malcolm passed by each other, whether it was in the hallways, outside, or the cafeteria, Reese manages to shoot Malcolm an alarmingly heated glance that Malcolm can never interpret. At least, he thinks, not _accurately_. But, for some undecipherable reason, Malcolm feels a shiver pass through him each time, especially when Reese is sure to brush his shoulder, or, if he's extra stealthy, the back of his hand against Malcolm's.

This year, Malcolm and Reese actually have a class together: APUSH. While Malcolm wasn't entirely passionate about the subject of American history, let alone history itself, he found the class somewhat bearable, since he, for once, did not have to share any sort of proximity with the disgustingly sadistic and morally-insufficient . Mr. Daniels, however, possessed the quality of being just boring enough, but not too monotone of a speaker that Malcolm could tune in and out as he pleased and never truly miss the gist of each lesson. Besides, he had already studied the majority of the material that was being taught, and had only taken the class for an easy A. Reese, on the other hand, had taken the class to finish up his history credits, and his advisor wouldn't allow him to slack off in an Honors class as a senior. Yet, neither of them expected to share the same period, or even sit relatively close to one another.

But sitting next to each other gives Reese ample opportunity to antagonize Malcolm in any and every way possible. Not that it bothered Malcolm, as he is sufficiently conditioned to Reese's particular kind of tormenting, which typically consists of throwing tiny paper balls, passing him high-key insulting notes, or, as of late, tickling Malcolm on the most easily accessible places, such as his knees or calves.

But today, the teasing bordered on… _risqué_.

Whenever Mr. Daniels turned his back to write down key points on the board, Reese would snake his hand under Malcolm's desk and smooth it up and down the top of Malcolm's closest thigh. 'Good thing we're in the back of the classroom,' Malcolm thinks. 'Not sure what the _hell_ Reese thinks he's doing, but if I draw attention to this, there will be jokes _for days_ being spread amongst the unforgiving student body. No thanks.'

Malcolm jumped a mile high when Reese's hand shifted to the inside of his thigh, slowly closing the distance between Malcolm's crotch and said hand. Reese knew he was making Malcolm sweat, but couldn't figure out the feeling in the pit of his stomach, let alone _why_ his hand was there in the first place. Satisfaction? Brotherly roughhousing?

'This is nowhere near _rough_ , but I'm just messing with him, right?' Reese wonders, slowing his ministrations, but ultimately keeping his hand in the same area. 'After all, he _is_ mine.'

"Wait, _what?"_ Reese says out loud by accident, jerking his hand back before anyone could look to the very back of the classroom.

"Reese, is there something wrong?" Mr. Daniels inquires, eyebrows raising expectantly, but mostly in suppressed annoyance.

Malcolm's cheeks take on the slightest hint of a blush, and Reese smirks at him before turning back to Mr. Daniels. "No, sir. Just mentally reiterating the material you're teaching so that I can use it later. After all, who's to say I don't become a historian, right?" Reese grins, adding a false shrug for good measure. Malcolm rolls his eyes, knowing full well that Reese abhors any kind of historical subject.

Mr. Daniels genuinely smiles. "That's what I like to hear. Anyway, on with the Declaration of Independence. In 1776-"The bell rings before he can finish. "All right, class. Your weekend homework is to read this excerpt of the Declaration of Independence, and to decipher precisely what the purpose or main objective of each passage is." The entire class groans, seeing that the assignment on the board is no less than eight pages of reading. "I expect you to take good notes, as we may partake in discussion circles when we come back on Monday. Yes, they are assigned for the purpose of maximum productivity. Have a wonderful weekend!" The class collectively groans again, packing up as fast as humanly possible, then filing out the door.

Malcolm, already having his stuff packed up, rushed out the door after the rest of the class, Reese in tow.

Malcolm walks faster, hoping to out-walk Reese before-

"'Sup, Mal," Reese says, snagging Malcolm's thin waist between his left arm.

' _Shit_ ,' Malcolm thinks, a brief look of panic flashing over his face before he can suppress it.

"Something wrong?" Reese purrs, opening his hand so that it splays across Malcolm's stomach, keeping them hip to hip as they amble down the sidewalk.

Malcolm's breath catches in his throat, stuttering before he can correct it. "N-nothing. Everything's _fine and_ _dandy,_ " he lies, avoiding Reese's eyes as they search his face for some sort of break, _anything_ that could tell him otherwise.

"Great. Hey, when we get home, do you wanna watch a scary movie with me? I heard that _Nightmare on Elm Street_ is on tonight at 8. I've heard good things about it. Or bad things," Reese chuckles, pulling Malcolm closer against his side.

When their house comes into view, Malcolm almost sighs outwardly in relief. "Yeah, sure. I just…need a few minutes, I guess," Malcolm says, rushing straight to the bathroom, and waiting inside until he sees Reese enter their room. Malcolm then moves to the kitchen's phone, dialing Stevie's number as quickly as possible, nervously pressing the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Stevie answers.

"Okay, Stevie, just let me talk, and grab your laptop, too," Malcolm orders, hearing the squeaking of wheels and the click of a laptop opening, as well as the 'logged in' music.

"Gotcha," Stevie breathes. "So…what do…you need…to know?"

"Well, you remember, like a day ago, when we literally _smoked_ that chem lab? Reese inhaled some of that stuff, and he's been acting pretty funny lately. I'd rather not talk about specifics," Malcolm trails off. "Anyway, it was reddish-pink, and glowing. And…well…." Malcolm starts, not sure how to convey to Stevie that his own brother may be coming on to him.

"Yes…Malcolm?" Stevie asks, coaxing Malcolm into continuing.

"Well…he's more…affectionate, I guess. Like, playful, you know? And maybe hugs me more often," Malcolm says, trying to keep it G-rated as much as he could.

"I just…found a website…oh dear…" Stevie pauses, the line going deathly silent.

"Stevie? Stevie, answer me, what the _hell_ is going through Reese's system?" Malcolm panics, his breathing picking up and his heart hammering in his chest cavity.

"You…are _not_ …going to like this… _one bit_ ," Stevie starts. "My…rational brain…can't even…process…this…information."

"Stevie, what _is it_?" Malcolm asks again, the conversation taking a grave tone.

"According…to this…website…Reese…inhaled…either…a _love_ …or _lust_ …potion," he says in disbelief. "And…not…the kind…of love…you guys…currently…share," he finishes.

" _What?_ " Malcolm whispers into the phone. "You're not messing with me, right? Stevie, I _trust_ you, and this better not be a fucking _joke_ , because it isn't _funny_ —"

"Yeah…not…kidding. Might be…a cripple…but…I don't…feel like…getting my ass…kicked," Stevie replies, taking an honest tone. He wishes he were joking. Very badly.

"Well, what does it say to do, then? There is a way to solve this, right?" Malcolm asks, desperate to find a solution; almost _anything_ seems plausible right now.

"Malcolm…I have…to ask you…a few…questions…first. It's…the only way…to differentiate…between…the two…possibilities…and therefore…isolate…the correct…solution," Stevie states, pausing to gain Malcolm's assent.

"O-okay, I guess, if that's the only way," Malcolm says, nervous energy seeping out of every pore on his being. "I trust you, Stevie. _Very much_ ," he says, moving to lean against the countertop.

"Okay…first question. When…you said… _hugging_ …did you mean…something… _else?"_ Stevie reluctantly inquires, not wanting the potentially explicit details.

"I mean, he _did_ basically escort me home right after dinner at your house yesterday. You know, like straight couples do, with the guy's hand on the girl's lower back, letting her step over the threshold first. And…oh! This morning was kinda weird. After I teased him about something, he grabbed the front of my shirt…and _may_ have almost kissed me. Maybe. I hope I didn't misinterpret that."

"And today, during APUSH, we sat in the back of the classroom together, and instead of tickling me in more 'family-friendly' places, as usual, it got a little… _daring_ , to say the least. And after class, he fucking caught up to me and escorted me home _again_ , only _with his arm around my waist_ ," he states, glad the day is almost over anyway. "It's all so…abnormal, so _unlike_ Reese. I swear to _god—"_

"Lust," Stevie interrupts. It's…a _lust_ …potion, Malcolm," Stevie says, the resigned expression on his face leaking into his tone of voice.

An awkward silence passes between the two of them, before Malcolm asks the essential question:

"Well, what do I need to do?"

"It says…that the potion...affects…the one…who inhales…or consumes…it otherwise…immediately. And that…it brings…repressed attraction…to the surface…in the form…of outward gestures…and variable…behaviors. So…in order…to get it…out…of his…system…it is necessary…to engage…in the desired…activity…with…the afflicted…being," Stevie reads.

Malcolm can feel the cogs in his brain stop, not even having to think of what Stevie meant when he said 'desired activity'. "W-well, since it's a lust potion, that could only mean one thing," Malcolm says, a hollow feeling beginning to filter into his body.

"I have to have sex with my brother, Stevie. My flesh and blood."

Malcolm paused, realizing the reality, albeit ridiculous, of the situation. "Is there anything else I should know, Stevie?"

"Well…it says…that the…longer…you wait…the stronger…his 'needs'…get…and…at some point…become…uncontrollable," Stevie says, eyes growing wider, half in disbelief, half in worry. "Yeah…I can't…believe…I'm…encouraging…this…but...get it…over with…ASAP…dude. Who knows…what Reese…might do?"

Malcolm jumped when Reese called him into their room, demanding that Malcolm change so that they could watch their movie together. "Stevie, I gotta go. Reese is calling me, I guess. And I owe you one. Wish me luck? " he inquires, asking more for confirmation that what he was about to do, however potentially scarring it was, would ultimately be worth it.

"Sure…Malcolm. Sure." Stevie hangs up, leaving Malcolm to ponder exactly how he would go about…doing what he _had_ to do.

'Well, I surely don't _want_ to commit a mortal sin that would, according to the Christian population, buy me a first-class ticket to Hell. I mean, I haven't encouraged him. But, I guess I never stopped him, either. And I did technically make the lust potion, so it's only my responsibility to fix this mess. But, saving your own kin doesn't count, right?' he ponders, a tumultuous mix of moral questioning and fraternal values wrestling within his head and heart, one idea bashing out the other as he slowly gained the resolve to fuck his brother.

Now, how in the _hell_ do you seduce your brother?


End file.
